


Where Oceans Bleed Into The Sky

by unicornduke



Series: to symphonies of blinding light [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Cuddling & Snuggling, Male-Female Friendship, Other, Phil has bad days too, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Telepathy, Team Dynamics, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Trope Bending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornduke/pseuds/unicornduke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are infinitely more complicated than they first appear, and the complicated things can be so very simple in the end. Phil Coulson never asked for this to be his life, but to be quite honest, it's not the worst thing that has happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Oceans Bleed Into The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally came up with the concept when the creator of the trope bingo was listing tropes on Tumblr. And one of them was telepthic bonding. And the trope normally is, the characters bond and then get together. My brain took that and said, "well, what if they didn't get together?" and this was what happened. It was supposed to be around 5000 words but, uh, that didn't happen. 
> 
> There shouldn't be any major triggers but things to watch out for: non-consenting medical procedures (not graphic), mentions of torture, PTSD (of a sort), canon typical violence, and discussion of consent where an asexual person coerced themselves into having sex (not between characters listed). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.  
> ~~

He stumbled and nearly went down, but the grips on his arms kept dragging him forward.

_-hate dealing with this shit-_

_-can't wait to hav-_

_-HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME HE-_

His brain frizzed and fuzzed, a storm of gray sweeping back and forth and whirling and spinning and he staggered and--

_-why can't this guy just walk, jesu-_

_-HELPOHGODITHURTSITHURTS-_

_-son, where did they take him? Need to slip th-_

One of the hands drop him and he sagged, dropping to a knee. A clang. Sound of a someone being hit. “He's a failure. Say your goodbyes, Hawkeye.” A mocking voice.

_-goodbyes? NO, Coulson, what did-_

_-why the boss wants that one, he fights-_

He was thrown into something soft and he blacked out as the door closed.

~~

_-oulson, please, please, please wake up, god fucking wake up, where the fuck is Nat, shit shit shit-_

“You there, sir? You _are_ awake. No faking, you lazy bastard. Sleeping while the rest of us are doing stuff.”

_-please wake up, why did they mean goodbye, Nat, where are you, fuck-_

A hand clasped around his. His head was laying in someone's lap. _What was he hearing, what was going on what what whatwhatwhat_

“Sir, you have to calm down.” Hand moved to his face. _-oh god I'm hearing things, what even-_ “Coulson!”

Pain lanced down his neck, stabbing, ripping pain that burned and burned. There was a roaring in his ears and someone was screaming and screaming and screaming.

_-HELPHELPHE- -what is going on?- -zzzzzzzt- -fai- -coulson calm DOWN- -new trial befo- -shitshitshit- -Is he in my head?- -HELPHELP- -Coulson focus on me do it NOW-_

He blacked out.

~~

An unknown amount of time later, Phil woke up. Opening his eyes he found himself staring at half of Clint Barton's face and the rest of his vision was filled with a gray concrete ceiling.

He coughed once and then rolled to his side as the nausea overwhelmed him and he threw up. _What_.

 _-Easy Phil-sir, that's probably the last of whatever they gave you-_ Clint was rubbing his back, slow soothing circles as the muscles in Phil's stomach twitched in pain.

He lay there for another few minutes, half on Clint's lap and calmed himself, deliberately relaxing his muscles.

They were obviously prisoners at some highly questionable science facility given the large amount of liquid previously injected into him. Clint twitched. Phil ignored it, busily tracing how they got there.

Avengers mission. Bad guys joining forces. Experimental weapon shipments while the others were fighting the distractions. Fighting off HYDRA goons. Being gassed? It got fuzzy there. Waking up on the interrogation table. Not answering. Brief torture session. Clint twitched again, a ripple of unease rolling through him. Ah, refusing to answer made then start sticking things into him and then things got really fuzzy.

Coulson sat up slowly, Clint helping until he was mostly upright. Mostly. He couldn't really stay upright on his own; the muscles in his abdomen were still twitching and his limbs felt weak and floppy. But Clint was good and comfortable to lean on.

Coulson cleared his throat once, suppressing the wince at the scrape and said. “Barton, report.”

“Capture is as you remember. They threw me in here three days ago. I've been being fed and watered. You rejoined me five hours ago and then passed out.” Clint rattled off, like this was their normal debrief of Indian take out and staple flicking competitions while they filled out the paperwork. “They found and removed all of our equipment except for the tracking chips. I suspect their signal is blocked.” _-oh, and we're now telepathically bonded.-_

 _-What-_ Coulson said? thought? sent?

“I don't feel different.” He said. But there was the vague memories of being dragged and hearing things that didn't make any sense. _-this is...unexpected.-_ Coulson thought. _-Damn. Alright. You have a plan?-_

 _-I do-_ Clint replied. _-I was just waiting for you to join me. I'll disable the cameras and then-_ Then Clint did something that vaguely felt like being handed something, _except in his head_ , and the rest of Clint's plan filtered in.

 _Huh, this telepathy stuff is useful._ Phil thought.

 _-I know, other than the many ways it could go bad.-_ Clint said and paused. _-Sir.-_

 _-We'll have to check how much we're getting from each other.-_ Phil said as he levered himself to his feet using the wall.

 _-Yeah, yeah. Sounds like fun.-_ Clint replied absently as he stood and moved over to the far wall, reaching up to a spot and fiddling with it.

Phil caught the edge of something that sounded like, _-don't really care-_ but he wasn't really sure.

 _-Alright, sir.-_ Clint turned and looked at him, a sharp grin on his face. _-let's blow out of here-_

~~

Fourteen hours later, after breaking out of the cell, hitting up the medical lab computers, sending a distress signal to SHIELD, transferring as many encrypted files as they could to a SHIELD server built specifically to receive such type of documents, and setting a few fires to cover their tracks and cause confusion, both Clint and Phil were safely ensconced in SHIELD Medical.

“So,” Clint said, dragging Phil's attention from the reports. He glanced up, watching the archer. “I'm guessing no Indian take-out until we get out of here.”

“Yes, Barton,” Phil said. “I think being injected with who-knows-what warrants a slightly longer stay in Medical.” _-Not to mention the telepathic bond.-_

 _-Ah, yes.-_ Clint shrugged as if he didn't care but a ripple of unease flowed through the bond. _-So we're stuck here until Fury flies in a telepath?-_

Phil nodded, going back to his report. Dredging up the fuzzy memories wasn't really pleasant but they might help to figure out how exactly the scientists did it.

 _-So it's a bit odd they didn't do anything to me.-_ Clint said suddenly, fishing a coin out of the pocket of the medical scrubs. He began bouncing it off the floor and wall, catching it as it came back.

Humming in acknowledgment, Phil marked down the four different needles he remembered being injected with. Clint twitched and kept throwing the coin.

 _-It's possible they wanted you as leverage. Or worse. You are an Avenger.-_ Phil said, deliberately not thinking about the idea of selling an Avenger, how much money an organization could get for one. There was a reason Banner kept his face off the news. _-Or they planned to use you too. But their focus on me may have been since I attempted to look harmless.-_

Clint snorted, a small wave of irritation flowing to Phil. _-They really should have learned by now I'm not really the one to be afraid of.-_ He said, oddly serious.

“Oh no,” Phil said, “They shouldn't fear me. It leaves them open to attack. It's the art of being underestimated.” But he couldn't help but think of Clint as the darkness, the unknown and the death that comes from the shadows. While he himself was the shape shifter, the anonymous and the invisible. Both to be feared for different reasons.

 _-Getting poetic in your old age?-_ Clint said, laying down on his side, facing away from Phil.

 _-I figured you could use some culture. Get it into that stubborn skull of yours-_ Phil teased back, fully knowing about the books of poetry stashed in convenient nooks around HQ and the Tower.

His only answer was an exaggerated snore.

~~

Three hours later, Phil woke up to loud knocking on the door. He sat up, adjusting the IV running into his arm until it was out of the way. On the other bed, Clint bolted upright, blinking to clear his eyes.

Phil waited another moment to let Clint hop out of bed, grab the blanket on the windowsill and wrap it around himself. Doing that made Clint feel safer and Phil suppressed the urge to hug Clint. Now was not the time, once they had privacy Phil could make sure his friend- _agent_ was fine. He called for the knocker to come in.

Fury stepped in, followed by Dr. Mathews and a middle-aged woman, her dark curly hair streaked through with gray.

“So,” Fury said, glaring down at Phil. Or trying to. That look hadn't worked on him for years. “You got yourself telepathically bonded to Barton. You know how much shit you're in, Cheese?”

“Not a bit, boss. I had it handled.” Phil said, grinning at Fury. God, Marcus was so fun to rile up. “Besides, I'd rather be bonded to him. He's got better depth perception than you.” He felt a swirl of amusement from Clint, despite his bored face.

Fury rolled his eye and waved Dr. Mathews forward.

“The drugs they gave you have cleared your system. If the effect is still present,” the doctor paused and at Phil's nod he continued. “Then your brain chemistry has been permanently changed. We'll need to do more tests than just the basic MRI to determine any other problems. I'll have a list of the scans we'll do ready and we can schedule them when you're done here.” Dr. Mathews gave Fury and the woman a quick nod and left.

“Both you and Barton are on medical leave for four weeks and light duty for a six after that. Sitwell will be working with the Avengers in your absence. On light duty you can be on the comms but not in the field,” Fury said. “And depending on the fucking bond thing, we'll see about after that. That's where she come in.” He gestured at the dark-skinned woman. “This is Naomi Eve.”

She stepped forward and smiled at them. It was a soothing smile that fit her, stern and slightly mothering at the same time, despite the harsh lines of the field suit she wore. “In case you were not briefed, I was trained at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning as soon as my telepathy manifested. I now liaison between Xavier's, SHIELD and several magical practitioners. My specialty is working with compromised assets and handling real time issues that come up with mutants.”

She glanced once at Fury and continued. “I looked over the data retrieved and this particular group was working to create a telepath who could read multiple people's thoughts, pull information from their minds and transfer it to a computer database. They were successful at the first part but all of their previous victims died because their minds were not equipped to deal with the information they were hearing.” She paused, a pained look on her face. “They all managed to kill themselves before the scientists could do more testing on them.”

Phil felt sick. The worst thing was that he could _see_ it. He could see how the voices would drive him mad especially since he had no natural way to block it like telepaths did.

 _-So that's what they meant when they told me to say goodbye.-_ Clint said slowly, his face twisted in anger, and fear, _-They expected you to kill yourself in the cell with me.-_ “Fuck.” Phil watched as he stood and leaned his head against the wall, hiding his face from the others.

 _-It's okay, Clint. I'm fine.-_ Phil said, sending waves of reassurance and comfort towards him. If he could, he would have gotten out of the bed and hugged Clint. Instead his injuries from the brief torture session made him to wait while the other man forced control over his emotions.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Clint turned back. Fury was watching them both, eyebrow raised. The Director showed no real outward sign but Phil could read the sudden tension in his jaw as the suppressed worry it was.

Naomi stood silently, waiting for their attention. When they finally looked back at her, she said, “If you wish I can have the reports sent to you but I would advise against either of you reading them for fear of triggers. Now. For the part I can actually help with, I'll be testing how the bond affects you both. I will only make periphery contact with you minds. This will be similar to how I'm speaking to you now.” She took a step forward, giving them both a questioning look. “Are you ready now?” At their nods Naomi closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

Phil glanced at Clint, who was still humming with anxious energy. _-Barton, relax and sit down. You're on the IV for a reason,-_ he said, sending calm thoughts at him. _-I have zero plans to kill myself and you're the only person I'm hearing.-_

Naomi cleared her throat. “Were you speaking to each other?” she asked.

“Yes,” Clint said shortly.

“Hmm, to all senses, you are both shielded. I can sense your minds but not touch them. Such a power is unusual but not unprecedented.” She opened her eyes and looked at Phil. “Bonding with him is protecting you from everyone else's thoughts.” Naomi caught and held Clint's gaze. “You must have an extremely strong will to do so.”

Phil felt a bolt of surprise jerk through Clint and suppressed a smile. Clint was extraordinary, he just didn't realize it sometimes. There was a reason he was an Avenger. The look Clint shot him, slightly incredulous and surprised told Phil he hadn't kept those thoughts to himself.

“Now,” Naomi said, interrupting their silent communication. “The other important thing we need to test is distance, to see if the bond will stretch properly. I can shield both of your minds for this but Agent Barton will need to take a walk.”

Clint shot him a worried look but Phil made sure to smile at him. “Go ahead, Clint. We need to test this. I'll be fine.”

 _-Alright-_ Clint said, and Phil felt him take all of the worry and shove it down as he got up and slipped on shoes. The IV pole squeaked slightly as it wheeled along with him, the only noise as Clint left the room.

“Now, Agent Coulson. If you can, please let me know when you lose contact with Agent Barton.” Naomi closed her eyes and Phil followed suit, focusing inward.

He could feel Clint's mind, a buzzing while of thoughts and feelings and memories. He could also feel him getting further down the hall, turning a corner, almost running into...

 _-Did you just run into Jasper?-_ Phil asked, amused by the irritation on Sitwell's face.

 _-Nooope-_ Clint replied, voice going faint for a second, _-It was a strategic dodge, and -----_

Pain lanced through Phil's head, driving little ice picks of agony into his eyes. He arched upward, trying desperately to grab something, to keep himself from grabbing his head. He wanted to tear out whatever hurt and his pulse was bounding in his veins and jackhammered the pain in his head and down his spine.

He needed- he needed something- where was it? He couldn't get it, where was it, where---

 _-Agent Coulson, please calm down-_ It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, ithurthurthurt _-Agent Coulson, focus!-_ feminine voice calling to him, saying something important, but he couldn't hear it over the pain and hurt and this was worse than

_-AGENT BARTON, GET BACK TO THE ROOM NOW- -hold on, si-_

that time in Vermont of all places they were captured and hurt and hurt and hurt and Clint came and got the junior agent out but she nearly died, she was a translator, not really an agent, had just joined up, god why did they take her and -

_-Phil, I'm back. I've got you.-_

Oh thank god.

He passed out.

~~

“-MRI was the same as when he first came in, so there hasn't been any damage that we can see so far.” Dr. Mathews sounded angry. “That being said, my professional opinion is that you don't do that again.”

 _-Of course he sounds angry.-_ Clint said from nearby. _-Rewriting your brain a second time is a no-no-_

 _-Huh.-_ Phil said, going over what happened. He almost winced at the echo of pain before opening his eyes. The lights above him were dimmed and the figures of Nick, Naomi and Dr. Mathews stood on the far side of the room, talking intently. Clint sat on the edge of Phil's bed, one of his hands curled around Phil's wrist.

“It was necessary to determine how to best mitigate the affects of the bond.” Naomi stood facing the doctor, hands on her hips. “And now that I have that information, I can give Agent Coulson advice that will be useful to him.”

“Yes but-”

“Alright,” Nick cut in, “I don't have time for this. Will Agent Coulson and Agent Barton recover? Yes or no.”

“Yes,” they both replied.

“Then I've got a developing situation in France to deal with.” Fury pointed at Phil. “Keep me updated and remember what I said about medical leave.” He pointed a finger at his eye patch and then flicked it at Phil, his version of 'I've got my eyes on you' and strode out.

 _-Does he do that every time you're in medical?-_ Clint asked, his memories of previous visits in medical flicking past Phil in an instant.

 _-Yes.-_ Phil said absently. The room looked fuzzy and the bandages were itchy. _-And do you really spend so much time in the ceilings listening?-_

 _-Nope-_ Clint said blithely, _-I'm working on my infiltration and stealth skills.-_

Phil grinned up at Clint, who was staring at him, amusement written across his face and flowing through the bond.

_-still on the drugs-_

“Hmm?”

“So, Agent Coulson,” Naomi said, “Your bonded has the important information. I told him while you were, ah, indisposed and I'm sure he'll give it to you. If you need anything at all, I've left my number in the paperwork there,” she nodded her head towards the table next to Phil's bed, “Feel free to keep in touch.”

“Thank you very much,” Phil said politely. “We'll keep you updated.”

Naomi grinned at them. “Good luck,” she said and strode out of the room.

Dr. Mathews was the only one left, and he came over and checked the IV drips for both of them. “You are both fit to be discharged in three days. We'll be doing the tests we talked about before in that time and then you'll be free to go.” He looked at Clint. “I expect you'll be sticking close to him for a while but someone else should be around in case something goes wrong.” He gave them a weary smile. “Mr. Stark has already volunteered himself and the other Avengers for that, and they're all waiting outside.”

Phil smiled back. He knew how exhausting dealing with anxious Avengers was. “Let them come in, I'll get them sorted out and out of your hair.”

“Thank you.” Dr. Mathews said. “If you need anything, page the nurse and they'll get me.” He left the room and a minute later, the sound of multiple pairs of shoes came down the hall.

Predictably, Tony was the first through the door, although the others were close behind. He immediately snatched up the charts at the end of the beds and tossed them to Natasha who was the next one through the door.

Putting his hands on his hips, Tony glared at them. “You aren't supposed to get kidnapped and experimented on.” He said, voice snapping. “Just for that, no coffee for you two for a week.” And he turned and stormed out, brushing past the others.

“Hey, that's not fair!” Clint said indignantly, “I'm perfectly fine! I'll need that coffee.” _-Asshole. I like my coffee in the mornings-_

After she finished looking over the charts, Natasha cuffed him gently on the head. “I agree with Tony.” She tossed the charts to Bruce and began checking over Clint, running her hands over his head and neck, doing inspection.

Steve, Bruce and Thor were looking over the charts, and the worry furrowing Bruce's brow was not looking good at all.

“These are the compounds they found in your system?” He asked, flipping through the rest of the pages of Phil's chart.

“The reports will have more information on what I was given.” Phil said, ignoring Clint's grumbling in his head. “We sent the files we found but I wasn't allowed access to them.”

“With good reason,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We were all worried when you both disappeared, you know.”

Phil smiled slightly at him while Bruce moved over to him and began doing the same check over that Clint was getting.

“What exactly does telepathic bonding entail? I confess, we have bonding of many sorts on Asgard but I know not what that means,” Thor said, brow furrowed as he watched the inspections closely.

“We can speak mind to mind.” Clint said as Natasha hopped up on the bed next to Phil. “And there's a bit of emotional leakage, too.”

Phil shifted around until he could get at the bed riser button. Before he could even hit it, Bruce snagged it and pulled it out of reach. “Stop moving around. You were tortured a few days ago,” he said. “Now let us do that. And not you either, Clint. Dehydration and malnutrition plus the affects of the gasses means you're on medical leave. Now, sit.”

 _-He has you there.-_ Phil said as Steve helped Natasha and Bruce shift him upright. His ribs twinged and the stitches in his shoulders pulled.

 _-We gonna need to work on that.-_ Clint said as he sat back on the other bed.

 _-What, the amount of information going through the bond?-_ Phil asked, accepting the cup of water from Natasha.

 _-Yep.-_ Clint paused as he watched Bruce check the IV bags hanging around Phil. _-Also, here.-_ And again there was the odd sensation of being handed something and all the things Naomi told Clint filtered in.

 _-Hmm, twenty feet isn't much to work with.-_ Phil said. _-We'll need to work on that.-_ He was thinking about the repercussion of the bond now that he had the last of the relevant information. He was alive and well, yes, but neither of them could do SHIELD missions if there was even the slightest possibility they could be separated, Clint could pick up classified intel from Phil (which, knowing Fury, wouldn't really be an issue), and the Avengers would be without Hawkeye. And normally Coulson ran ground support for them, in charge of evacuation of civilians, detection of more enemies and cleanup. But even then, he and the agents under him sometimes came under fire and had to fight.

Natasha cleared her throat. “So once you two are done with your telepathic conversation, sitrep?”

Before Phil could answer, the door opened and Tony and Pepper walked in, rolling in a small cart covered in takeout bags, two trays of hospital food and drinks. There was a lull while everyone settled in with their food. Both Phil and Clint got the trays and no one let them have any of the takeout. They were still on a restricted diet. Clint pouted.

While they ate, Phil and Clint explained about the bond as well as they could, laying out the restrictions and problems. Predictably, the others were pissed about the distance experiment, but Phil distracted them by asking for a debrief on the HYDRA situation.

This was the team's standard after mission routine, getting their favorite takeout and eating around the bed of whoever in the hospital bed that time, the hum of voices gradually putting the injured person to sleep. If no one was injured, they did this on the common room at the tower, putting on a movie and relaxing until they fell asleep there.

Soon enough, Phil felt his eyes drooping and he saw Clint yawn, sleepiness eddying and swirling between them, dragging them further into sleep.

 _-We need to work on that,-_ Clint muttered as the team moved around them, cleaning up the trays and garbage, and they left with promises to return tomorrow.

 _-hmm?-_ Phil got out as Natasha lowered the head of the bed down. He gave her a smile and thanked her, squeezing her hand when she slipped it into his for a moment.

 _-the sleep thing.-_ Clint said. He kept talking in Phil's head and Phil drifted off to sleep easily, knowing he was safe.

~~

Two days later, Clint was going stir crazy.

Phil never could figure out why the archer refused to stay in Medical as long as he should have but now? He understood. Through the bond, he got the feeling of being trapped, of being stuck and the walls closing in, and it was bothering Phil.

 _He_ was ready to leave and he had lasted seven months in the hospital after Loki, but two days with Clint had him vibrating out of his skin.

So when Dr. Mathews told him he was done with the tests, Phil got his phone and called Natasha to pick them up. As soon as possible.

She arrived, took one look at him and sighed. Clint was slouching against the wall behind him, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, fiddling with something again. “Well now you have a better insight into why he does things,” she said, leading them over to her car.

Phil gave her a tight smile while Clint threw their small bag of spare clothing into the backseat.

It wasn't like he hated knowing more about Clint, how to help him out, but Phil didn't want to find out like this. To feel the unease and buried fear, and the itch winding under his skin. To see flashes of a hospital visit with a father who hadn't wanted that second kid, who watched the nurses and Clint to make sure no questions got asked. Or that time AIM had gotten Clint, strapped him to the operating table, sedating him enough that he couldn't move but was _awake_ and could see what they were going to do before SHIELD broke into the room.

Phil didn't want to know like this.

Not that his own issues weren't coming to bear, his time in the hospital after Loki chief on his mind. But there were others and they kept feeding back memories and thoughts and feelings and the tension ratcheted higher and higher. Both of them knowing how it felt to be stabbed by Loki, to be injected with who-knows-what, to feel the despair of a possible career ending injury, to the grief at the loss of friends and colleagues and good agents, the people they worked with and laughed with, playing poker on long overnight watches at the monitors, while the agents on target listened over the comms and held that close to keep them warm in the cold nights. To know that his hands were the hands of a killer, to know the fear as a trusted one turned on him, maimed him and left him for dead.

Finally, _finally_ they arrived at the tower.

Clint bolted the moment the car stopped, leaping out and Phil followed, struggling to end the feedback loop. He felt one last wave of frustration before Clint stepped onto the range, unsnapped his bow and began to shoot.

Closing his eyes, Phil forced himself to compartmentalize the emotions. Clint was doing the same, each shot straightening out his emotions and thoughts and fears until they both had cleared their heads. Adding feedback loops as _another_ potential problem to the list, Phil turned to see Tony and Natasha standing in the doorway. Clint kept shooting, but at a slower pace, more rhythmic and almost soothing, walking back and forth.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “And what was that?” she asked.

“A feedback loop,” Phil said quietly, even though he knew Clint was listening. “We'll need to find a way to snap ourselves out of it.”

Tony rubbed his chin, “A loud noise might do it. Or a push maybe,” he said, musing out loud as they watched Natasha walk over to Clint. “Work it out with JARVIS while you're on leave. Some kind of hand signal so he knows to snap you out of it. Right Jar?”

“Indeed, I will be able to assist Agent Coulson and Agent Barton,” JARVIS said, voice coming through the speakers that were in every room of the tower.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Phil said with a smile, “And thank you, Tony. Clint and I have quite a few issues to work out still.”

Tony grinned, “I bet you have a few things to 'work out' now that you're telepathically bonded,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Phil, “Like all of that unresolved sexual tension.”

Rolling his eyes, Phil walked a few steps further from Clint, carefully gauging the distance, “There is no unresolved sexual tension between us, Tony.”

A wave of anger pulsed through the bond but Phil ignored it. They needed to be able to focus with the distractions of the bond.

“Sure, sure,” Tony said, flapping his hand at Phil. “Just like there wasn't sexual tension between me and Pepper.”

There was a spike of alarm from Clint and a wave of vertigo swept over Phil. He staggered as Natasha slammed Clint to the ground, the air leaving his lungs in an instant.

“You need to focus!” Natasha yelled, “ _No getting distracted by Phil._ ” She let him go and stalked over to Phil, leaving Clint gasping on the floor. “You're both useless right now,” Natasha snarled in his face and strode from the room, hands clenched at her sides.

Phil sighed. “JARVIS. Where are Steve and Thor?”

“Captain Rogers is in the west viewing room and Thor is sunning himself on his balcony,” JARVIS replied.

“Can you ask one of them to go spar with Natasha, please?”

After a moment JARVIS said, “Thor is heading to the gym now. He seems to be excited for, and I quote, 'a fierce bout between friends, no matter how great her anger'.”

“Good,” Phil ran a hand over his face. Natasha was scared. If her anger at them hadn't told him that, the fact that she said they were useless did. The three of them worked so well together because they could trust the others to take care of themselves and to watch the others backs.

Plus the fact that they had been taken while she had been near them in the fighting meant she probably blamed herself for this. If she hadn't been faster, better, more alert, she could have kept them out of HYDRA's reach.

Clint and Phil were both compromised. And that compromised Natasha.

The last time had been Loki and the clusterfuck after. The time before that had been years ago, when the remains of the Red Room had taken Natasha again. Had compromised her. Like a virus sneaking into her system.

But just like after Loki, they had the team, the Avengers to watch their backs.

~~

At some point in the past week, Natasha evened out and talked to Clint, apologizing in her own way for the outburst. Phil “heard” the conversation and was fiercely glad she was feeling better. She even spoke to Phil through Clint, which was much stranger than most of the bond stuff had been so far. But after that, she helped them with training, hashing out what exactly they needed to do in order to get back to something resembling normal. So Natasha took over that and simply ambushed Phil or Clint or both of them when they weren't expecting it. She got the rest of the team to help too, talking to them, distracting them or even having unexpected projectiles thrown at them. The last one was mainly Tony. Phil knew he was helping and _didn't_ threaten to bury him in paperwork as a reward.

He and Clint worked on the distance on their own. It would be too easy to distract one of them and accidentally go out of range, which Phil knew had unpleasant consequences. JARVIS would warn the team what they were doing and Phil would sit in the common floor living room while Clint prowled to the outer edges of their range, stopping when he heard the slight dip in mental “volume”.

It was slow going. They had only increased the range to thirty feet in the first week of their medical leave but they needed the distance.

Unfortunately, they were never completely separated from each other, emotions coming through easily while they had to “speak” for coherent thoughts to get through.

There was no way they could go back into the field. Any risk of separation would take out Coulson and if Clint didn't return in time? He would die. They talked back and forth about it, and if they hadn't been bonded it would have erupted into shouting matches. But Phil could feel the fear and worry coming from Clint about it and couldn't bring himself to yell because he knew what Clint was feeling. And Clint could feel what Phil felt so they just hashed out what they could do while working for SHIELD and submitted the transfers to Fury. Phil did it but he buried the thread of unease that Clint was out of the field because of _him_. Clint was an Avenger, he didn't deserve to be stuck off the team.

The Director wasn't happy, but he came to the tower and spoke with them about it, giving them both a squeeze on the shoulder when he left.

Then they had to tell everyone else. Eventually.

~~

“Thanks for making dinner, Natasha. That was delicious,” Phil said, smiling as the rest of the team chimed in. Natasha waved away his thanks and Phil wandered out of the kitchen, leaving the others cleaning up. He sat down on the loveseat closest to the door so Clint could stay in there. Half listening to the gentle teasing, Phil opened his laptop, a deceptively delicate looking computer SHIELD had developed. Some of the best engineering minds in the world worked on it, making it incredibly light, bulletproof, able to get a signal almost anywhere in the world and it had a battery life of almost two weeks.

Natasha had once used hers to take out five men and then go back to hacking files on it in an instant. Only afterward, she weaponized it.

Opening a browser, Phil checked through his stocks and a few news websites, watching some of his long term investments. JARVIS could do that for him, picking stocks and running numbers to get the best ones but it felt like cheating. And it took all the fun out of it.

There was a fuzz of warmth coming across the bond, with a fierce wave of amusement on top as Clint juggled the plates he was supposed to be washing. Natasha helped by throwing more and more at him and Phil was just waiting for Clint to drop one. But he easily set them into the sink one by one until everything was stacked by size.

 _-Show off,-_ Phil teased. Clint somehow sent the impression of him sticking out his tongue at Phil.

Steve laughed and slapped Clint on the shoulder and Phil went back to his work. He had never been more glad of the Avengers sticking close as they had in the past four years. While they'd all danced awkwardly around each other at first, the generally bad first impressions on the Helicarrier coloring their interactions, Tony herded them back to the Tower eventually and everyone learned to tolerate each other, to fight against the newest threats together and eventually they became friends.

Half watching though Clint as Thor picked Bruce up under the arms and walked out of the room with him to the laughter of the others, Phil quickly sold fourteen futures contracts. Profit of almost $10,000 each. _Excellent_.

“JARVIS, play the Celtic Voice playlist, please,” Phil said, switching over to SHIELD personnel files as the music filtered into the room.

Collecting CDs on his travels was his second, slightly less strange collecting hobby, with the Captain America one being first. It had only started because he'd been tailing a target for surveillance in an open air market and needed cover. Phil spent two Euros on a CD of French love songs and continued the tradition on missions after that if he could. They became a reminder of all the places he went and a stress reliever, which all SHIELD agents indulged in, in some form or fashion. All of the higher-ups knew what the others did; Hill spent her downtime knitting beautiful pillow covers and blankets and then finishing them by putting the most creative swear words she could on them. Phil got a scarf for Christmas one year with something absolutely filthy on it in Afrikaans. Sitwell was a foodie. He would try any food from any type of place; a stomach of steel helped him and he could give the best advice on where to eat. Fury spent his downtime doing wine tasting and actually had started making his own recently.

But they all did it and the Avengers did, too.

Steve, Clint and Natasha wandered into the living room, halfheartedly debating about whether the Lord of the Rings books or movies were better. Clint flopped down next to Phil and groaned. “I am so full,” he said, stretching his arms above his head.

Natasha gestured for Steve to sit on the couch and proceeded to poke him into a position where she could comfortably flop on him. She grinned over at Clint, “That's because you ate a Thor serving of my kotlety.”

“It's so _tasty_. And you don't make them often,” Clint said, “I gotta eat as many as I can.”

Steve picked up the tablet laying on the table near him, “You should teach me how to make them,” he said to Natasha as he typed something.

Phil focused back on his laptop as they started talking cooking. He understood the terms but was forever burning things and had since been banned from cooking anything needing a stove or oven.

Next to him, there was waves of sleepiness coming from Clint and his head was lolling back and forth on the back of the couch.

 _-You really did eat too much.-_ Phil teased _-it's putting you to sleep.-_

 _-Quiet, you.-_ Clint said, trying to find a comfortable way to sleep sitting up. He shifted around for a few minutes, curling up sideways, leaning over the arm before sending a wave of sleepy irritation at Phil.

Phil rolled his eyes, _-Here-_ he said, shifting the the laptop to the table next to the couch. _-lay down-_

Grumbling under his breath, Clint shifted down, curling his feet onto the couch and sticking his head on Phil's lap.

 _-Good.-_ Phil said and moved so he could use his computer one-handed. The other he casually dropped onto Clint's side and left it there.

After a while, Tony came back and flopped over Natasha's legs, immediately joining into her and Steve's quiet conversation about chess strategies.

Clint dozed on and off, occasionally snuggling closer to Phil or shifting around. Phil smiled down at the other man, basking in the feeling of contentment and gently rubbed his thumb on Clint's side, nothing more than a slow back and forth. It was comforting to Clint, touching him like this, platonic and easy and Phil would be damned if he said he didn't enjoy the feeling too.

By the time Thor and Bruce came back to the living room, Phil had shifted his hand to Clint's head, rubbing it through his dirty blonde hair. Tuning out the hum of conversation, he went back to studying German. Never knew when another language might come in handy. On top of the three he was already fluent in.

Clint muttered something under his breath and curled up tighter, hooking a hand under Phil's knee and tickling the sensitive skin there. Phil couldn't deny the slow curl of desire that rolled through him but he pushed it away. He and Clint needed to have a long talk but it could wait. They were still adjusting to the bond and its effects; long personal conversations could wait.

So Phil relaxed and turned his attention to the team. Thor was laying on the floor, video game controller propped on his stomach as he played, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated on the game. Despite the sweatpants, hoodie and hair pulled back in a ponytail, Thor always looked strange using modern appliances, the interactions made more hilarious by his tendency to accidentally electrocute himself. Or what would be electrocution to normal humans. Thor just said it tickled.

Phil slowly ran his hand though Clint's hair, work now forgotten as the drowsiness coming across the bond ebbed and flowed. He contemplated taking a nap as he watched Bruce settle into an armchair with a well worn book from the small library that had begun in the corner of the room. Everyone just stuck their books there once they started sharing and passing them around. It was closer than the actual library four floors down.

Tony had fallen asleep on the couch, no longer sitting on Natasha's legs but holding them in his lap, hands loosely clasped around one of her ankles. Natasha looked drowsy too, a small smile on her face as she snuggled closer to Steve, who just wrapped his arm more securely around her. His attention was completely on his tablet, slowly scrolling through something.

There was safety and happiness and love and all Phil could do was smile, even as Clint blinked up at him, thoughts muzzy and confused. Phil sent him a pulse of what he was feeling and Clint smiled and went back to sleep. A short while later, Phil joined him.

~~

The bond didn't disrupt their lives as much as most would think. Both Clint and Phil were practical about it, knowing secrets and feelings would transfer between them. But they'd been living out of each others pockets for years, along with Natasha, and so they'd seen the others at their best and worst and all the spaces in between.

~~

Clint was stretching in the living room when Natasha walked in and sat down next to Phil. He had _Bridezilla_ on the screen next to him while he worked on a private contract between SHIELD and Stark Industries. Phil never minded doing a favor for Pepper and it was something to do while on medical leave.

Natasha peered over his shoulder, well into his non-existent personal space and fixed two terms, making it more secure for both parties. Phil gave her a quick smile in thanks, before they both glanced up at Clint's hum. He was up in the Flying Crow position, balanced only on his hands with one leg tucked on the outside part of the opposite tricep and the other stretched straight out behind and above him.

Phil picked up on his thoughts and agreed. “Natasha, want to lunch with us? We're going for-,” he paused, arguing with Clint for a moment. “We're going for sushi when he's done. The normal place.”

Natasha met his eyes and held them for a minute before nodding. “Let me go and put on some jeans,” she said, gesturing to the soft pajama pants she had on. Stopping by Clint, Natasha took one of his feet and straightened it properly, holding it for a few seconds so he could get the right stretch before sweeping out of the room.

 _-Think she knows?-_ Clint asked, slowly bringing his feet to the ground.

 _-She probably suspects it-_ Phil said, saving his document and asking JARVIS to turn off the television. _-Natasha most likely saw it coming when she found out the effects of the bond-_

Clint did his cool down stretches, mind wandering over the reassignments and new tasks they would have. Phil tucked his feet under himself on the couch, making sure his khakis didn't wrinkle and joined Clint in his mental wanderings. Leaving the field was terrible but the alternative was to risk Phil being injured if either stepped out of range.

After a few minutes, Clint finished and headed for the shower. But he stopped and waited. Phil pulled himself off the couch, joining Clint by the elevator. Thirty-five feet still wasn't enough to reach another floor.

They were quiet as they got ready, lost in their thoughts as Clint showered and changed into a pair of dark jeans and a nice jacket. Phil threw on his coat and they rode back up to the main level where Natasha waited.

They made their way downtown to the sushi place, a little hole in the wall restaurant where they ordered in Japanese and snagged the round table in the corner. The restaurant was quiet, most people still at work and the music was down low.

They talked and laughed, eating the delicious sushi and enjoying the quiet times in their lives. With jobs like theirs, they couldn't let the quiet times go by because saving the world was often loud and messy and took them over until there was nothing left. SHIELD agents took “married to their work” to another level and that's why they were SHIELD, the best. But Psych always had their hands full and everyone needed breaks.

With the Avengers it was worse; there were long periods of nothing and then an explosion of supervillians came around.

This something Phil, Clint and Natasha all knew intimately.

They finished eating and then Phil knew they couldn't put off this conversation. He leaned forward, said, “Natasha.”

She looked up and her smile twisted into a small grimace. “You are both retiring from the field,” she said, making it a statement. She already had guessed the answer.

“Yes,” Phil said, both his and Clint's eyes intent on her. “Missions go wrong very easily and anytime that happens there is the chance that we'll go out of range.” He paused, trying to find a way to word it so it wouldn't sound so awful but Clint beat him to it.

“The overflow of voices would make him kill himself if we left him for too long,” Clint said, reaching over and tapping the back of Natasha's hand, a gesture he had done before, one that said, _I have to do this_ , and _It will be okay_. “I won't risk it.”

Natasha was quiet for a minute, eyes lowered as she processed what they told her. One of her hands moved and fiddled with the ends of her hair but they waited. Finally she looked up with a curl of her lips and said, “So you guys are leaving me all alone with the superpowered assholes? Jeez, that isn't a reward.”

Both Phil and Clint relaxed. This was okay. She was joking with them, it was fine.

Clint grinned at Natasha, “Nah, we're sticking around. Just not going in the field. It'll be like an extended sleepover, but with more explosions.”

“There will not be any more explosions,” Phil said sternly, knowing that Tony enjoyed making messes just to rile Phil up.

“Uh huh, if you say so, sir,” Clint said, unholy mischief alight in his eyes. Natasha snorted and punched him in the side before standing up and heading for the counter to pay.

 _-Ow-_ Clint complained, rubbing his side. Phil snorted and said, _-You should have expected it-_

_-Yeah, yeah.-_

They both stood and waited by the door for Natasha to finish up. When she was done chatting, she sauntered over and hooked her arms through Clint and Phil's and dragged them out the doors.

Walking back to the tower, they took the long, scenic route, all of them enjoying the sunny weather and clear air. It was nice out and the streets were busy but not overcrowded, leaving enough room for the three of them on the sidewalk.

“When are you planning to tell the rest of them?” Natasha asked.

“Once I'm cleared for light duty,” Phil said, smiling at her. “My assignment will be, essentially, permanent light duty so I need to get cleared for that first.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha would see the exhaustion about the whole situation.

 _-It's not so bad, sir-_ Clint said, oddly serious. _-You've got me, it can't turn out too badly-_

 _-I think it will be okay in the end-_ Phil said, _-I'm still adjusting-_

Abruptly Natasha pulled them to a stop. “Stop it, you too,” she said, giving them a quick shake, “Relax a bit. We'll handle it together and the last one back has to make popcorn for movie night!” Then she gave them a wicked grin and took off back to the tower at a run, leaving Clint and Phil staring at each other.

 _-Well.-_ Clint said, _-we aren't going to let her beat us back are we?-_

Phil gave Clint a wide grin, _-Of course not-_ And they ran after her.

~~

Phil could feel Clint dream.

It was rather bizarre, slowly rolling emotions and quick flashes of the dreams coming across the bond. Not to mention how disorienting it was to have weird fantastical creatures, like an odd blue centaur without a mouth, jump into his head randomly.

But it was another aspect of training. To stay awake and alert while the other slept. Clint did it the night before, staying up to the early hours of the morning but still waking up around the same time as Phil. So just after lunch, Clint dropped onto one of the couches and took a nap.

Phil wandered around the room, pacing as he read a book from the corner library. He was fairly certain it belonged to Clint at some point, faded cover showing a man standing and staring over a dusty canyon. _The Village Horse Doctor_ sucked him in and he read about ponies with bad feet, herds of cattle and horses and all sorts of things that sounded much like nostalgia for a different time.

Yawning, Phil padded into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the electric kettle. It was a tea day, he decided. Nice and relaxing, with dinner out later with the team. He grabbed the blend he wanted from the well stocked tea cabinet and a mug and leaned on the kitchen island to wait.

Soon the water was hot enough and Phil poured it into his mug, adding the tea bag and just a small amount of sugar. Wrapping his hands around the mug, he inhaled the smell of tea and warmth.

Footsteps made their way into the kitchen and Phil opened his eyes to see Natasha getting her own mug of tea, a slight smile on her face.

“JARVIS, play Tcherepnin, _Narcissus and Echo_ , please,” she said and settled on a stool next to him as the first flute notes came over the speakers. Her hair was damp from the shower she took after her midday run and she was dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. They sat there, relaxing and listening to the music and Phil found himself drifting off as Clint dreamed on the couch, but Natasha nudged him back into his head before he actually fell asleep.

Bruce slipped into the kitchen, humming along with the music and greeted Phil and Natasha with a small wave. He spent a few minutes in front of the tea selection, still humming as JARVIS played another ballet song. Finally Bruce poured the last of the hot water in and settled at the table across from Phil. “So how are your cuts healing up?” he asked Phil, swirling the tea bag around in his cup.

“Just fine,” Phil said, pushing away the sensation of flying coming from Clint's dream.

Natasha made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of derision but Phil ignored her. “They've been healing well and I'm due to see Dr. Mathews on Friday to be cleared for light duty.”

“Who's going in with you?” Bruce asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Phil sighed. “We don't need an escort.” They really didn't. Steve and Bruce had come with Phil and Clint to HQ for Phil's last checkup and they'd done more looming than Clint.

“Tony and I are going in with them,” Natasha said to Bruce, ignoring Phil. “I need to pickup something at R & D so he can cover while I do that.”

“Ah, good,” Bruce said, “JARVIS, what time are we going for dinner tonight?”

“I am unable to complete your request at this time,” JARVIS said, his voice a distorted monotone. In an instant, Phil pulled his pistol from its holster and took cover behind the island. Natasha was crouched next to him, unhooking the handguns that were strapped to the bottom of a drawer. There was a set of eight comms in there too and she handed them to Bruce and Phil before pocketing the others.

 _-Clint-_ Phil snapped. _-Barton, move now!-_

Bruce crouched down next to them, pulling his phone out and calling someone. _Steve_ , he mouthed and Natasha nodded.

 _-Coulson.-_ Clint said, awake and armed in an instant.

 _-Something is wrong with JARVIS.-_ Coulson said, wishing for an instant that he could send Barton for recon. _-Possible attack. Natasha and Bruce are with me.-_

Bruce whispered something to Steve and hung up, immediately dialing SHIELD. “Get on comms, channel seven,” he said, a dark look on his face.

Natasha tapped his knee and when he looked, hand signaled she was going to scout. Coulson gave her a nod and she ghosted out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs. He felt Barton dart over to the hidden computer terminal in the nook of the living room, the surge of adrenaline filtering through the bond. Clint's mind hummed with the data he saw, flipping through diagnostics pages until Phil forced his mind away from it.

“SHIELD is currently fighting off an attack at HQ,” Bruce said, hand cupped over his phone, “They can handle their end but Hill suspects it's a diversion from us.” He paused and listened to Hill for a second then hung up. “She said superpowered or mutants, but nothing major.”

Coulson nodded and turned his comm to channel seven. “Coulson reporting. Banner and Hawkeye are with me.”

“Black Widow reporting. Moving downward to the labs to check on Stark.”

Steve's voice crackled over the comm, “Good. I'll meet you down there, Widow. Coulson, Hawkeye, keep Banner safe. If this is an attack by supers, they may be after him.”

Unfortunately, many supervillains went after Bruce because of his research and genius mind or the sheer destructive capabilities of the Hulk. They wanted him to work for them or kill for them and the last one had almost succeeded in driving the Hulk to rampage.

“Yes, sir,” Barton said, all of his emotions tamped down, a singular focus on the mission the only thing on his mind. “First look at the system says JARVIS is fighting off some kind of computer attack and-” _-Incoming!-_

Coulson immediately grabbed Bruce and took off towards the center of the tower, pistol secure in his other hand. He knew that Barton was covering the rear, the bond sharpening their focus until they moved as one. Slipping open a hidden service door, Phil made sure it was clear as two loud crashes signaled the windows being broken in.

“Oh, Doctor Banner,” a male voice sing-songed from outside, crisp tones easily heard over the sound of the wind. “Come out, come out, wherever you _are_.” At the last word, a concussive blast ripped through a wall. The hum and thwack of Barton's bow echoed in Coulson's head, taking lives in an instant.

Coulson shoved Bruce into the passage and pointed towards the stairs. Then, ignoring his protests, Coulson shut the door and locked it. If they were coming for Banner now, they had to know of the Hulk and have a way to neutralize him.

“Captain, we need backup,” Phil said and joined Clint. Their eyes met for an instant and in that second, hundreds of plans were formulated and discarded until they knew what to do. Moving as one, they threw themselves from cover, firing at the mutants that spilled into the tower. Coulson heard Steve acknowledge him, asking for a sitrep but it was faint, far off beyond the singing in his veins as he and Barton fought as one person. Blocking attacks, whirling, covering each other as they fought back to back. Pulling a knife from the small of Barton's back and using it to slice across the face of a mutant as Barton shot an acid arrow into another. Using one mutant to sweep another to the floor. Double teaming the shapeshifting one who tried to take Thor out just as he flew in the other side of the building.

Time went slightly fuzzy as they fought. Tony and Steve joined them at some point, fighting the enemies hovering outside the tower and Natasha joined Clint and Phil in their fighting. She brought more weapons and they tore into the fray with renewed vigor, Phil grabbing one of the modified Destroyer weapons while Clint jammed an acid arrow into the mutant whose skin was some kind of metal. He fired a shot behind him, ducking low as Clint flipped over him and fired another arrow.

It was like dancing; only in the same way that walking in a park and mountain climbing without gear were alike.

Gradually, there was a break in the fighting, most of the injured mutants slipping off one by one. Thankfully none of the Avengers or Coulson were injured in any way more than cuts and bruises. Four mutants stood arrayed in front of them and Phil wiped his forehead with his sleeve before focusing on them. Tony and Thor landed next to Steve and Natasha, all of them in full armor while he and Clint were in everyday clothing. Clint stepped up next to the others while Coulson stepped back. This was an Avengers issue and he had no real power here, but he could watch their backs.

Both groups stood still for a minute, surveying the wreckage of the Tower floor.

“While this has been fun, it's time for Dr. Banner to come join us,” The mutant floating on the left said. He was tall and imposing, face covered by a dark blue mask with strange curving patterns covering it. His cape has the same designs, wrapping securely around him. The others looked like muscle, heavy hitting type mutants with hardened skins or shapeshifting powers.

“If Dr. Banner doesn't join us, we'll be forced to take desperate measures,” the mutant paused, “No? Otrov, take one of them.”

Everyone tensed and readied their weapons but nothing happened.

“What happened? Your friend abandoned you?” Tony said, taunting the mutants. Coulson tuned him out as his comm beeped, indicating the overseeing agent should switch channels. Subtly, he reached up and changed it.

“Coulson, we've got backup on the way,” Fury said, speaking quickly, “Six minutes out, with Xavier's peo-”

Suddenly a purple mist whirled out of the floor at Clint's feet and engulfed him in an instant, hiding him from view.

 _-Clint!-_ Phil yelled.

 _-I'm fine. Fine. Mostly_ \- Clint said and Phil felt him pushing down the fear that bubbled up. _-He's got my wrists but nothing else. Not touching anyway else at all.-_

“Hawkeye!” Steve took a few aborted steps towards the mist but the mutant leader's chuckle stopped him. “You really shouldn't do that, Captain. Otrov, come here.” The mist blob began floating towards the mutants and in that instant, Phil knew Clint was going to be out of range.

 _-Clint, how strong is he?-_ Phil said, telling Fury he was going to be out of contact shortly and switching back to the normal channel.

 _-Not that strong, why?-_ Clint must have picked up on it because he immediately tugged on the restraints, igniting sparks of pain in his arms. That wasn't normal. _-Phil, shit. I can get free, just give me a minute.-_

 _-Don't-_ Phil said, _-Backup is four minutes out, I can wait that long.-_

 _-Dammit Phil. Don't do that!-_ Clint snarled.

“Avengers, whatever happens, don't look behind you,” Coulson murmured into the comm, ignoring Clint's rage. “Clint's going out of our bond's range, but backup from SHIELD and Xavier's will be here in three minutes. Dr. Banner, stay where you are.” Coulson sat down on the floor, mostly hidden from the mutants by a chunk of rubble that may have once been part of the fireplace.

“Do you know how Otrov's power works, Dr. Banner? _Contact poisons_. So all we have to do is wait while it travels through Hawkeye's bloodstream, until it reaches his heart. And _kills_ him.” The mutant sounded smug, as the blob kept moving away from Coulson. “Hawkeye, Feel free to scream in pain to encourage Dr. Banner.”

 _-Does it hurt?-_ Phil asked, worming his fingers into his holster so he would latch onto it when the pain started.

 _-Pins and needles, sir.-_ Clint said and Coulson felt the lie in the throbbing pain in his wrists. Clint's voice went faint. _-It not hurting as bad as you will be, sorry, sir.-_

 _-Oh now I get a sir ----_ Pain lanced through his head, just as bad as the last few times and Coulson gave in and drifted, picking up bits and pieces of thoughts.

_-where is- -not instant-_

_-didn't think it would-_

_-saying out loud-_

_-Banner come out fr- -hold on-_

_-dammit Clint, why did you ju- -get to him-_

Things were blurring and he couldn't hold on to anything, just the little shards of thought and feeling stabbing and shredding. Nothing he could do about it, no enemies to fight except his own mind and it was betraying him. There was people around him but they didn't register, just their voices forcing their way into his mind, _-get her over he- -where is Clint, jesus- -stretcher to the medical level- -worrying about his heart and-_

Time warped and warbled around him, until it disappeared, leaving only the pulsating pain of his heartbeats and the voices. Abruptly, the noise of minds disappeared and only one person was talking to him. It still hurt, god it still hurt but it was less important. He drifted for a time, the gray pain eddying through his head.

Then all of the sound and color rushed back into his head all at once. Phil opened his eyes and saw Clint standing above him, fear and worry all over his face.

Then it went dark.

~~

“-never said it would be that _bad_.”

“It wasn't that bad before,” Clint said, worry radiating from him. “The only time we were separated was for the distance test and I was back with him in less than a minute.” _-I'm trying dammit, I can't do that much.-_

“Quiet,” Natasha snapped from beside him. “Phil. You're awake. Now open your eyes.” Her hand squeezed his and Phil obeyed her.

“Hey,” Phil said, looking around at the Avengers lounging on the couches in the room. It was one of the non-destroyed levels of the tower where Tony had turned it into a Medical wing when Phil moved in after Loki. He sat up, noticing the helpless feeling coming from Clint. “Sitrep?”

Steve and Tony glanced at each other before Steve spoke up, “After you,” he gestured at his head, indicating Phil's telepathy problem, “backup arrived just as Clint jumped out of the poison mutant and back onto the roof. Then he ran over and..... rebonded with you.”

“Our backup was a bunch of mutants from Xavier's, including one Naomi Eve, who was surprisingly helpful,” Tony cut in, “They helped capture the baddies and took them off to wherever they put misbehaving mutants. And you were out for less than an hour.”

“Thank you,” Phil said, pulling himself into a sitting position. _-Clint, what's wrong?-_

 _-I'm not allowed to touch anything.-_ Clint said unhappily. He waved at Phil with his bandaged arms and the line that went into his arm swung around him. _-Plus I got extra blood to flush my system.-_

Clint was on painkillers. They always made him loopy so he refused to take them except under extreme circumstances, or when Phil and Natasha could get him to take them.

 _-You'll heal up, Clint-_ Phil said, trying to reassure him.

There was a knock on the door and Naomi stepped in. “Ah, Agent Coulson. Good to see you up,” she said, eyes flicking over the Avengers, “I just wanted to extent a thanks from Professor Xavier for your assistance in capturing these particular mutants.”

“Assistance?” Tony said, outrage coloring his tone. “They attacked my tower and my team, and you call it _assistance_?”

“Tony,” Steve said, laying a hand on Tony's shoulder, “There's more.”

Naomi nodded and said, “Yes. We've been tracking these mutants for a while now. They've been researching how to induce the mutant gene in humans, but they recently lost some of their research to SHIELD. They wanted Banner to recreate it since he studied it to check the effects on Agent Coulson.”

“So these mutants were sponsoring the research facility I was taken to?” Coulson asked.

“Yes,” Naomi said, smile falling from her face, leaving lines of exhaustion, “They had a telepath who blocked the minds of the mutants so we couldn't find them.” She shook her head. “What's done is done- Agent Coulson, keep your bonded close for a week to let the bond cement again before working on the distance training. Stark, the damage to your tower will be paid for.” Naomi surveyed the rest of the Avengers. “And you bunch need to watch out for Agent Coulson. Now, I need to go herd some mutants home. Goodbye.” She turned and strode out.

Bruce smiled grimly, pressing his lips into a thin line, “That wasn't exactly helpful. How do they intend to keep the mutants off our back? We don't handle them for a reason.”

“Now that they have some of the members, Xavier's should have an easier time catching the others,” Steve said, moving his shield to the side of his chair. He was half-dressed, a thin tank covering his torso while his suit hung around his waist. Grabbing the pile of clothing on the shelf next to him, Steve tossed a pair of sweatpants and hooded sweatshirts to Phil, Natasha and Clint while Tony poked at his phone. Everyone ignored the clothing changing; it was normal now, body modesty beaten out of them by battles and treating wounds and more or less becoming a family.

“Since the tower is a bit messy, my parent's old mansion is across town. We can stay there, while this gets fixed,” Tony said, as Bruce helped Clint into his clothing. Balancing was difficult for him and a wave of dizziness rolled through the bond.

Unthinking, Phil shook his head to clear it, immediately regretting it when both of them staggered. Bruce held Clint up while Natasha steadied Phil. “What was that?” she asked, eyes serious despite her half dressed state.

“He was dizzy and I tried to clear my head,” Phil said, just as serious, “Affected us both. How bad was he injured?”

Natasha shrugged a little, “Bad enough that the doctors dosed him before he could move.” She prodded Phil into moving and they finished dressing.

 _-It wasn't that bad-_ Clint said, wobbling as Bruce draped the jacket around his shoulders. _-Hey. Hey, Phil. What do we say to the god of death?-_

 _-Clint.-_ Phil sighed. He wished Natasha hadn't gotten Clint into the the TV series. He liked to quote it when he was bored and apparently, when he was drugged.

 _-Not today!-_ Clint said, the cheer in his mind voice completely at odds with his bemused expression. Phil rolled his eyes, or he would have if he let such things get to him. Instead, he sent his best “I'm disapproving but amused” face to Clint through the bond.

“C'mon kiddies!” Tony said and walked out the door, “I've got two cars waiting outside to take us over. Chop, chop!”

Phil wasn't really injured so he started for the door while Thor helped Clint, who was still giggling. The Avengers all made their way to the elevator and down to ground level where the discrete Stark vehicles waited. Discrete being two SUVs with blacked out, bulletproof windows, a special emergency SHIELD license in case they needed to get into a battle area, and some of the comfiest seats Phil had ever encountered in a vehicle with room in the back for equipment.

Bruce and Thor helped get Clint into the vehicle and joined Phil inside while Natasha, Steve and Tony got in the other. Normally, Tony flew but with the Tower damaged in an attack, their normal defenses were already lowered and it would be that much easier for another old enemy to attack. Not to mention those three were probably working through a press release to give once Pepper joined them.

By the time they reached the mansion, it was past midnight and Phil was exhausted. Clint had fallen asleep five minutes after they left and combined with the mess of a day, Phil just wanted to collapse into bed. Thankfully, it was Sitwell's job to deal with that shit right now so they all managed to get to the couches that were easily the size of full beds before they all fell asleep.

~~

Phil woke up to the sound of quiet arguing. _-Clint?-_

_-Ow-_

Phil sat up with a groan. He was sore and aching from the battle...yesterday by the looks of the sunrise through the windows. Pepper, Tony, and Steve were arguing in the corner, tablets and files scattered around them. They all wore suits, Tony and Pepper in business dress and Steve in his dress uniform that he used for all his press appearances.

Thor was helping Clint sit up and Natasha and Bruce were nowhere to be seen.

Phil felt the pain in Clint's arms, like a thousand stinging bees but it drilled down into his bones and Phil cleared his throat, “Where are Clint's painkillers?” he asked, drawing the others' attention.

“Right here,” Natasha said as she walked into the room, Bruce right on her heels. She popped open the bottle in her hand, fished out two pills and held them out to Clint along with a water bottle. Then she stood in front of him, other arm crossed over her chest, clearly not moving until he took them.

“I don't want these,” Clint said mulishly. “I don't need them.”

“Take them or I will have the Hulk sit on you,” Bruce said as he sat down next to Clint, “And believe me, I don't want to let the Hulk out and ruin this lovely couch.”

Phil glared at him. _-I can feel how bad it hurts. You need to take the painkillers.-_

 _-Fine, fine-_ Clint grumbled, reaching up with his hands to grab the pills. He pulled them back with a hiss when the skin stretched, sending bolts of pain through his arms. Natasha looked like she wanted to smack Clint in the head but instead she carefully fed the painkillers to him, tipping the cup carefully so he could wash them down.

Bruce tugged gently on Clint's long-sleeve shirt, rolling the baggy sleeves up so he could check the bandages. It was soothing to Phil, knowing Bruce would look out for Clint to the best of his abilities and Clint trusted Bruce to help him. Thor was watching intently from the other side of Clint, glancing at his own hands every so often. It was something he did every time someone was injured, as if he wished he could give them his healing factor, as if he could make them better with his own hands. Even now, the scrapes on him from yesterday's battle were virtually gone.

Clint grumbled but settled down at the look Phil sent him, letting the others care for him while his arms were out of commission.

Natasha joined the others in the strategy corner, her yoga pants and baggy t-shirt a stark contrast to the put together look of the others. Pepper leaned over to show her something on a tablet and they conferred quietly.

Phil shifted and made to get up when Tony cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention, “So, Phil, you want to tell the audience why there are transfer papers for both you and Clint, in SHIELD's databases? When, exactly, were you planning on telling us?” Phil's breath caught in his throat for a second.

“Wait, what?” Bruce and Steve said at the same time, eyes zeroing in on Phil.

“Clint, you are leaving our team?” Thor asked Clint quietly. Clint glanced over at Phil, the tension clear through the bond. _-Are you sure you want to handle this, Phil?-_

 _-Yes,-_ Phil said, meeting Clint's eyes despite the hurt looks the team minus Natasha was giving them. _-I'm the reason you can't stay on the team. I will handle it.-_

_-Phil, that's not--_

“I was going to tell you once I was cleared for light duty,” Phil said, cutting through the outraged noises Tony was making. “Especially since light duty is all I'm fit for now.”

Steve met his eyes, a mulish look on his face, “What are you talking about? You're recovered from the injuries you got.”

Phil shook his head and leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his face. This was not how he meant to go about this conversation. “As the last month has shown me, I am now more of a liability in the field than an asset. I will be taking an administrative position within SHIELD as well as continuing to be liaison with the Avengers outside of the field. Sitwell will be the field coordinator for the response team.”

“Liability in the field?” Tony said, stabbing a finger in Phil's direction, “You, Phil Coulson. All around badass and the person survived a match with a god, are a _liability_? You've got to be _kidding_ me.”

“Phil, I think I'm more of a liability that you are,” Bruce said, a small painful smile on his face. “I turn into a giant smashing person at unpredictable intervals.”

“Did you all miss the point yesterday when I went down yesterday because of the bond?” Phil said, wishing they had waited until he had a proper nights sleep to explain this. “If any agent has a chronic condition that may cause injury or incapacitate them, they are not allowed to be in the field. No exceptions.” He looked around at them, the superhumans in the team. Steve might understand, having once been a walking liability but Thor, Bruce and Tony were as strong as they wanted to be, making themselves powerful through their weaknesses. But normal humans couldn't.

“I cannot overestimate mine, or any other agents abilities. Doing so will result in people dying, whether directly or not. Even if we could get the distance necessary for Clint to be in the field, battle is unpredictable. Teleportation, hits in battle, being carried off, _kidnappings_. Any of these could take him out of range.” Phil kept talking over the protesting noises the others made. “As my range with Clint increases, so increases my range of 'hearing' when the bond is broken. He wouldn't be able to get back in time.” He looked around, noting the looks of confusion on Pepper and Bruce's faces and the dawning horror on Thor's.

“What do you mean by 'your range increases when the bond is broken'?” Steve said slowly, looking between Phil and Clint.

Phil stood and moved over to the desk at the end of the room. “The bond is like a rubber band,” he said as he search through the drawer. “Clint and I increase the distance and the bond stretches.” He held up a rubber band and demonstrated before moving to stand next to the couch Clint was sitting on. “When we get separated and go out of range, the band snaps and the range I can 'hear' is much greater. So I'm hearing all of the voices within that range.” He snapped the rubber band and held one end of it, showing the team the reach of the broken part.

“Why can't you just rebond with him if he's within- Oh,” Tony said, staring at the rubber band. “Your telepathy isn't strong enough to recreate the bond if he isn't extremely close.”

Phil nodded. He was a senior level agent at SHIELD. He still was useful for many things outside of the field. That's what many agents did when they got older or sustained injuries. Self-evaluation was a valuable skill. “I'm sorry for taking Clint out of the field with me. Once I was allowed access back into SHIELD's systems I was going to send you the files on several potential candidates for the team.” He gave them a tight smile, the one he used on people whose reactions could go any direction, into anger or fear or wrath and waited.

“Clint,” Bruce said in the awkward silence that remained, “You're okay with this?”

“Well, yeah,” Clint said, a flash of confusion crossing his face, “If it's between fighting with the Avengers and Phil's life, I'll pick his life. You guys can get new people to save the world with, I'm just-” He stopped talking. Phil looked up and saw the stricken looks on the team's faces.

_-Phil. They don't know? I thought they, I thought they knew-_

Phil eyed Thor. The demigod was tense, painfully so and looked like he was going fly off his handle. _-Apparently Naomi didn't put that in the reports.-_

“Okay, since you guys apparently didn't see that bit of the report,” Clint said, “The reason the experiments didn't work on the test subjects is because they went crazy 'cause of the voices and pain, and killed themselves.”

There was a crack of broken glass and the cup Thor was holding crunched between his hands and fell around his feet.

“And you didn't- you didn't tell us this before, _why_?” Bruce said, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“We believed it was in the reports and since we were denied access, we didn't know it wasn't,” Phil said, watching the muscle in Tony's jaw work as he stared out the window. “That's the main reason for us to keep near each other but it's also quite painful to be separated.”

Natasha moved to help clean the glass out of Thor's hands but the tension in her frame said she hadn't known. She hadn't realized exactly why.

Steve stood up, cursed once and stormed out of the room. Pepper stood and followed, her face pale and set in the early morning light. After a moment more of staring out the window, Tony got up from his chair and walked into Phil's space, staring him down. Phil met his eyes and looked back, seeing the fear of loss and worry in Tony's eyes and gave him a small smile, a real one.

Tony drew in a breath, spun and marched after Steve and Pepper.

 _-Well that could have gone better.-_ Clint said after a minute, surveying the abandoned tablets and papers, the crushed arm of the chair Steve had been sitting in and the glass still littering the floor.

 _-In many ways.-_ Phil said as JARVIS directed him to a storage closet with a vacuum. He and Natasha cleaned up the glass in brisk, efficient form before she turned the vacuum off and grabbed Phil's head with both of her hands.

Natasha did the same as Tony, spent a moment searching his face before pulling him down and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Now don't scare us like that again, Coulson,” she said, turning back to Thor. “Up, you lunk,” she said before disappearing down the hall.

Thor stood and looked at Phil with eyes deep with other memories, a sadness in his gaze. Stepping forward, he grasped Phil by the shoulders. “I am glad you have Clint by your side, as partners,” Thor paused, swallowed, “And I am glad you did not succumb to the demons of the minds. I would not wish for another person to die by their own hand in my life.” He enveloped Phil in a hug, smelling of sunlight on fresh cut grass, leather and ozone. Phil slowly hugged him back, knowing Thor needed this comfort, knowing the whole team would need such comfort after a revelation like that.

_-Hey, Phil?-_

_-Yes?-_

_-Can you end the bromance thing going on over there? I need to pee.-_

~~

At some point, Tony cornered Phil and Clint and told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were forbidden to move out of the tower and would be required to be on comms during Avengers calls. He muttered something under his breath about family just before Pepper came through and swept him off to a board meeting.

The rest of the team was in agreement.

~~

It was the first time they left the mansion since they arrived from the tower the day it was attacked, two weeks after. Clint's arms were almost healed, leaving thick, shiny scars around his wrists where the mutant held onto him. He had refused to let SHIELD do skin graft treatments on it and instead wore a lot of long sleeves and jackets to cover them.

They wandered downtown, the overcast sky threatening snow, and they headed for a very specific bookshop; a small cozy one that had a paid informant owning the shop, who collected intel for SHIELD. Today, an employee was watching the register and Phil slipped into the back passage where the woman kept her office.

Phil felt Clint browsing through the collection, amusement and interest coming through the bond every so often while Phil talked to the owner.

 _-You going to get anything?-_ Phil asked when he was done. He moved back into the main shop area, checking the history section for anything interesting. Kneeling down, he looked at the books on the very bottom shelf.

 _-Yeah, picked out two.-_ Clint said as he wandered over to crouch near Phil. Despite his razor-sharp mind, Clint was a slow reader due to his spotty childhood education and often got frustrated at long, wordy books. But he absolutely loved math and physics textbooks, taking what he could from them and applying it to his fighting, and sometimes picked up shorter sci-fi and fantasy books and his beloved poetry books.

Eventually Phil picked out a couple of books and they got into line behind a teen who was loaded down with a giant stack of books. He and Clint talked quietly while they waited, commenting on the newer books arranged on tables and old specialty ones locked up in the display cases.

Phil dropped his books on the counter and absentmindedly took Clint's and did the same while they compared the weirdest book titles they had found, making sure to talk out loud. It was still far too easy to slip into speaking across the bond and then not talking aloud for the rest of the day.

“Oh my gosh!” the girl at the counter said suddenly, drawing both of their attention, “How long have you been dating?”

Clint blanked out for a minute and Phil sneaked a glance at him. He hadn't realized just how far they were into each others personal space, heads leaned close enough that they were almost hugging and it probably _did_ look like they were dating. Phil was about to say they weren't when he felt something like fear and anger all twisted through with hope come from Clint and Phil made a split second decision. He gently tangled his left hand with Clint's and gave the girl a small smile. “A little over a month, but we've known each other a lot longer than that.”

“That's wonderful!” she said, ringing up their books.

Clint's emotions were confusing to feel. - _Do you mind?-_ Phil asked. He paused and thought it through for a minute. _-it doesn't have to mean anything, but I'd like to continue like this-_

 _-It's fine-_ Clint said, a little too quickly. There was confusion rolling off of him, along with a healthy batch of nerves about something that Phil couldn't quite see.

So Phil let his hand drop because he wasn't going to push but Clint grabbed it back up. _-It is fine-_ he said, _-Can we....can we talk about this when we get back?-_

 _-Sure-_ Phil said and let it go, ignoring his own nerves. He thanked the girl at the register and took the bag of books.

They were both quiet on the way back, wandering along with their hands still entwined. Phil made himself relax and just go with it, to enjoy the brisk air and the small fuzz of comfort that came from the point of contact that was their hands.

Phil kept his thoughts to himself but every so often a surge of nervous energy would sweep over Clint in response to his thoughts and his hand would clench around Phil's. He would look startled for a second before relaxing and the whole process would start over again.

They finally arrived back at the mansion and by unspoken and unthought agreement, put away the books they bought, made hot chocolate and settled onto the couch in their bedroom. Clint sat in one corner, pulling a blanket over his lap and cuddled his drink close to his chest. Phil sat at the other end, holding his hot chocolate near his face and breathing in.

Phil cleared his throat, “I guess I'll go first. Ah, I think you've noticed I'm bisexual,” he hesitated, “I would date you, if you want. But I don't think you do. And that's fine,” he added hastily. “I'm just putting it out there.”

Clint stared down into his drink and Phil could feel the roiling of feelings in Clint's chest when he opened his mouth and then closed it again. Phil waited patiently, making sure not to broadcast his own worries.

 _-I just. I don't, umm, really want to, havesexwithyou.-_ Clint finally muttered. He seemed to argue with himself for a minute after before just shoving a ball of memories and feelings and thoughts at Phil.

There was...a lot of them, years worth of memories given to Phil in an instant and he felt all of them too. Overwhelmingly, the emotion that he felt most was discomfort.

But Phil knew this was important to Clint so he made sure his hot chocolate was secure before he started sorting through the memories.

They started when Clint was around twelve, confused when Barney would sneak out of the trailer the circus people had given them to go see the town girls. Continued with dirty jokes around the pit fires and dinner, and teasing Clint when he was older, hey look at her ass, you want to hit that, unless you're a fag. Memories of Clint sneaking out once or twice, just like Barney did, to try kissing the girls and it was awful and uncomfortable. Then in his twenties, trying to make his way doing manual labor and not turning to crime, he hooked up with people in bars and clubs, trying to feel a tiny bit of the normality having sex should have given him. Eventually giving up on having sex, and finding someone, anyone to call closer than acquaintance because no one wanted to be just friends with him.

Phil finished sorting through the memories and they were eight kinds of uncomfortable. “You had sex with them, even though you didn't want to?” Phil said incredulously. He couldn't believe Clint tried for so long.

Clint looked startled, “Jesus, I tell you all that and that's the thing you focus on?” _-It's not a big deal, I was just trying to.....to be normal, you know? I did want it.-_

Phil was speechless. Barring the fact that Clint had sex in order to be normal, there was still the fact at how unhappy the associated memories were. And it was frustrating that Clint would have done that to himself, made himself unhappy for years through failed relationships and awkward nights.

Clint obviously felt something across the bond because his eyes widened. _-No, it wasn't that bad, I swear.-_ “It's just, well, uh, I thought that's what most people did,” Clint shrugged, “Guys always want sex, right?”

Phil ran a hand over his face. That kind of attitude was damaging, especially to someone who obviously didn't want sex. Or possibly wasn't sexually attracted to the people he was sleeping with. Or wasn't sexually attracted to anyone. He paused for a second, working back through the memories and looking at people through Clint's eyes was fascinating. Not only because of his eyesight but the lack of sexual attraction was odd feeling to him.

_-You aren't sexually attracted to people- Phil said, making sure it wasn't a question._

_-No-_ Clint said, a burst of nerves coming across the bond. Phil looked at Clint, ignoring what he was getting from the bond. Clint sat rigid on the other end of the couch, jaw clenched. But he met Phil's eyes, a defiant look on his face.

“Okay. You don't really want to date but you want some sort of relationship, is that what I'm getting?” Phil asked. It was harder to say aloud than he expected.

“Yes,” Clint replied, his voice clipped.

Fear and hope warred in Phil's stomach. He didn't misread that, Clint's desire for a....not a different relationship but more of an acknowledgment of one. “Alright,” he said, picking through what to say, “I know you like cuddling but what are your boundaries?”

“What?” Clint said, surprise clear on his face. _-You're serious? You still want...-_ he trailed off, uncertainty crossing his features.

“Clint. Even without the bond that is keeping us mentally bonded for as long as our natural life, I would still be....life partners with you,” Phil said, his heart in his throat. “Much like Natasha is.”

Clint went blank for a few seconds, a few horrible moments where Phil wasn't sure what was going to happen. They felt like a lifetime, like one of the adrenaline fueled moments that stretched out forever and could tip the balance to either side.

Then there was an explosion of feelings, mostly a terrible, terrible kind of hope. Clint met his eyes, “Phil. You would- You would give up a normal life to spent it with me?” he asked, voice cracking at the end.

 _-I'm not giving up anything.-_ Phil said, reaching over and picking up Clint's hand. A fuzz of warmth flowed across the bond and Phil smiled. _-Not having sex isn't a big deal and in case you haven't noticed, working for SHIELD doesn't give me time to be normal.-_ He took a breath. “So cuddling is acceptable?”

 _-I, uh, just give me a minute Phil.-_ Clint said, his hand tightening on Phil's. He seemed to be flipping through things in his head and Phil let him be, instead working over potential problems. Like boundaries. And where those boundaries would exist. Those would be the main ones.

“Okay,” Clint said, taking in a deep breath. “Cuddling is acceptable. In the tower or private areas.” He met Phil's eyes, “Maybe we should write this down. You know, communication and stuff like that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I'm not the greatest at that.”

Phil smiled at him, warm and happy. “I know, neither am I. Outside of the job. Let's get some paper and a pen and make this work.”

They set the hot chocolate mugs on the coffee table and settled next to each other, a pad of paper and a pen on top of the blanket in their laps, Phil's arm slung over Clint's broad shoulders and the quiet murmurs in their heads, talking of boundaries and limits and the future.

It was love, quiet and peaceful, and in the end, that's all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine and constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
